


A Match Made in Heaven

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, Headcanon, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3437870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, and angel of the Lord, rescued a man named Dean Winchester from the clutches and torture of hell. And when Dean returns to Earth, he has no memory of Castiel 'patching him up' and their time together in heaven, but Castiel can’t help remembering it perfectly. Castiel drops subtle hints - standing too close, staring. But if Dean doesn't notice him it may kill the Angel a little more than on the inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Maybe not to a human's eye, but the angel's wings could be seen. And if they were being seen, it was conspicuous that the black, glistening feathers were thrashing wildly. It was conceivably because, possibly the angel was in pain. There was fire burning on to the flesh of his arms, but he seemed to pay no heed to it. His only focus was to fight harder. He pushed with all his might, propelling himself through the Hellfire with his wings. He reached for the man caught in the chains--the man who shouldn't be here. The man who should still be alive. The man who cheated death. 

The angel reached a hand out and gently touched the man's bloodied cheek with the hot touch of angel grace. He outstretched his other hand and grabbed the chain in which dug deep into the man's shoulder, and he yanked if out with one powerful pull. He repeated the action to the fearsome chain in the man's side, and the angel grabbed the man and pulled him close so he would not fall, wings outspread as he wheeled up as far away from possible from Hell. 

The angel made his way to heaven. He felt excitement prick at his skin, the hairs on his arms. His nails bit into the palms of his hands and he cried out, 

“Dean Winchester has been saved!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester is having a hard time waking up in Heaven, so Castiel decides to prowl the Earth for a bit. When he comes back, though, Dean Winchester is nowhere to be found. . .

The Angel waited impatiently. He had a long, restless fortnight of doing nothing other than watching the rise and fall of the unconscious Dean Winchester’s chest, whom was laying on his bed. 

He’d been doing that since he’d rescued Dean Winchester from Hell, and the man hadn’t stirred. He laid rigid, unconscious on the bed the Angel had left him on. Truly, it was upsetting him--he couldn’t begin to heal him until Dean woke up, after all. So, the Angel busied himself by walking the land of Earth, preforming minor miracles here and there. In that time, he saved a few people from stage 4 thyroid cancer, a some from type 2 diabetes, and a few other things. Nothing to draw too much attention. 

It was a warm day on Earth. Castiel was just making his way into the room in heaven where he’d been keeping Dean when he realized the air felt... empty. Lacking in someone's presence. He tried not to panic as he made his way to Dean's room. 

He expected to see Dean Winchester, asleep, on the bed, as always. To his horror, the bed was vacant, the sheets twisted and ruffled from previous use. Panic rose in the Angel’s chest, and he instantly began to rifle through every room in the whole house. No Dean Winchester. But the Angel would not, could not give up yet. He began to stand up from having been kneeled on the floor when he felt something sharp press against his back with a not-so-gentle unforgiving pierce. A noise that could only be described as a gasp crawled up his throat and pushed at his teeth, but when he parted his lips to let it out all that came out was a whimper. He heard a deep, smooth voice behind him ask, “What the hell are you?”

The Angel swallowed. 

“Hello, Dean.”

He slowly rose, taking a half-step forward to escape the sensation of the blade against the slight curve of his back, and cautiously turned around to face the man.  
“You can relax, Dean,” the Angel tried to reassure.  
Dean did not seem very pleased with this, and he brought up his hand in which equipped the dagger as if he were to strike down on the man. “I’ll repeat it once--what the hell are you?”

The words rose clearly in the Angel’s throat, and he said them even clearer.

“I’m an Angel of the Lord, Dean. I’m the one who gripped you right and raised you from perdition.”

Dean let out a growl, his shoulders tensing in frustration. 

“Bull crap,” Dean said angrily. “What are you, and what do you want from me?” Dean’s voice rose as he spoke, an angry tone accompanying the volume.

“I am an angel, Dean. I have no reason to lie.” 

“Prove it.”

At Dean’s words, the lights in the room flickered, and a high-pitched frequency - sounding like a whine - could be heard. Castiel could be seen in the flickering lights, but Dean squinted his eyes anyway, because he couldn't be seeing what e was seeing. Those were not wings spreading from Castiel’s back like a shadow on the wall. His eyes were not glowing bright blue, and the windows did not shatter.

But those were wings.

His eyes were glowing bright blue.

Dean jumped a bit as the windows shatter.

“Maybe...” Dean prompted, and the room returned to normal at that one word - the lights burning again at full power, no wings behind Castiel, his eyes a stunning blue but not glowing like before. 

“Maybe....You’re being honest. I don’t believe it, God, I don’t, but let’s say. . . You are. You’re an angel of the Lord, or whatever. What would...God, or Angels, for that matter, want to do with Dean Winchester? I mean... Why me? Why rescue -me-?” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side, and Dean felt a bit uncomfortable under his blue-eyed gaze. 

“It was God's command.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Why don’t you believe?" The Angel studied him, his eyebrows furrowing further, and Dean frowned.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved....” Castiel said, and Dean let out a growl, shaking his head. 

“Screw it,” Dean said, shaking his head and walking off. “I can’t. I won’t! I won’t get all touchy-feely with a friggin’ Angel.”

Dean tried to walk off, but suddenly, he was right in front of Castiel again. Only inches away. To the point where he could practically feel the Angel’s breath on him.

“You’re in heaven, Dean. You can’t run.”

Dean suddenly felt really sick. His legs were weak, and he suddenly became away of the excruciating wound in his shoulder, the burning hole in his side, the scratches all over his body. Unable to contain his weight, he fell forward into the Angel’s arms, and slipped into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean Winchester awoke to a cold sensation on his body and two fingers pressed to his forehead. He cried out in pain, the contractions of the wound in his shoulder unbearable. 

“Dean,” a deep, scratchy voice said. Dean struggled to keep his eyes open, but his green eyes locked on to the pair of almost glowing blue ones only inches away from his.

“Oh, it's _real_...” He muttered with a growl, and the Angel sighed.

“You fell unconscious,” he explained.

“You figure?” Dean mumbled sarcastically.  
“How do you know my name, anyway?” Dean prompted, gesturing for the Angel to back up, considering he was standing oddly close.

“I know a lot about you, Dean. And your brother, Sam.”

“Sammy...oh, Sammy!” Dean tried to stand, but the pain would not permit. He fell back on to the bed, coughing blood and clutching his stomach.

“Breathe,” the Angel instructed. “Deep.”

Dean obeyed, breathing in heavily then exhaling heavily. “I...I can’t... Sammy...”

“Your brother is fine,” the Angel assured, and Dean shook his head.

“Where even am I?” Dean asked with a quiet sigh.

“You’re in Heaven.”

“Heaven? No, you’re kidding.”

“I am not.”

“But...I was in Hell... _God_ -, who are you?”

“I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord--”

“Yeah, I know that jazz. But. . . I still don’t understand.”

The Angel - er, _Castiel_ \- leaned over until their noses were almost touching but didn’t seem at all bothered by their closeness. 

“Why did you rescue me from Hell?” Dean’s voice was quiet, demanding. He held a straight face, expression somber and grave.

“Heaven has work for you,” Castiel explained.

“What does that mean?”

“Only time will tell.”

Dean frowned. “When do I get back to Sam?”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed as if that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “In your state? Not for a while.”

“What, you don’t have the mojo to make me all better?”

Castiel glared at him, mumbling, “Dean...”

Dean stared at him with an expression that read, ‘That was a serious question.’

Castiel sighed. “I do...have the... ‘ _mojo_ ’, - ” the word sounded odd and foreign on his tongue, and it made Dean grin only slightly, “to... heal you, but it would take time. A lot of it. But... It may be painful.”

“Okay.” Dean set his jaw, a determined look in those green eyes that Castiel couldn't help but admire.

What?

Was it suddenly a sin to see the obvious? [ Well, to a certain degree, Castiel can see how seeing the obvious may be considered ungodly in some ways. ] Dean was downright _handsome_.

Castiel sighed and mumbled, “I planned to begin the healing process today. I...feel it would be better to start off slowly, use human methods. Then I will get more into the Angel way.”

Dean nodded his understanding. He puffed out his cheeks then set his jaw, saying, “Let’s do this.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Dean was up early. Then again, he’d fallen asleep early, so it wasn’t so much as a surprise when he woke up to see the time was 6:37 in the morning. He groaned, blinking awake.

“Good morning, Dean.”

At those words coming from the momentarily unfamiliar scratchy voice, Dean almost jumped out of his skin.

“Dean,” Dean now recognized the voice as Castiel. He sighed, laying his head back on the bed.

“What the hell, man?” He breathed. He looked up. The Angel was standing inches away from the bed, gaze intent on him.

“Have you been standing there all night?”

“Yes.”

“That’s friggin’ creepy, man. Don’t you sleep?”

“Angels do not require slumber.”

“Of...course they don’t. Yeah. Okay, don’t do that again, please. God, that’s friggin’ disturbing...”

“Yes, Dean…” Castiel mumbled apologetically. There was an awkward pause after this, before Castiel said, “You talk a bit in your sleep.”

“Oh, damn. What do I say?”

“You talk about Sam.”

“Yeah, I miss ’em.”

“Then let’s begin to heal you.”

“Already?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Okay...”

Dean pulled himself to sit up. “I haven’t even showered...” He murmured, eyes scanning his filthy skin.

Castiel squinted at him, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted slightly to the left. But then he gave a gentle nod. “You are unable on your own.”

“Woah, man, I can, uh...do it myself...” Dean tried to stand to prove his point, but as soon as he swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand, his jolts buckled and he collapsed. Groaning, he allowed himself to be plucked from the floor and laid on to the bed by Castiel.

“I’ll clean your wounds, and I can bathe you--”

“Er, you don’t have to, um...”

“I’m sensing awkwardness.” The Angel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as if he didn’t understand why it could possibly be awkward.

“Yeah. Naturally. I don’t want another guy to friggin’ bathe me.”

“Technically, Angels do not have a sex. Although their selected vessels can possess the trait of being male or female, Angels in their true form don’t--”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Dean interrupted. “But... I still don’t want you to.”

“As you wish, Dean.”

For some reason, Dean didn’t like the way that sounded. He pursed his lips but looked down. Castiel nodded and said, almost awkwardly, “I’ll...clean your, um, wounds.” 

He disappeared, and then reappeared moments later kneeling beside the bed Dean had taken residence to, inches away from his face. Dean almost jumped out his skin again, and the smug smile Castiel was obviously holding back made his cheeks turn pink and he glared at him.

Castiel bit his lip and stood, setting a damp rag on the nightstand. He helped Dean sit straight up to remove his leather jacket and flannel mackinaw and paused to look and Dean’s plain black shirt.

“Is it okay if...” He was going to ask to take it off, but Dean shrugged.

 

“Whatever, Cas.”

The Angel bit his lip and nodded, carefully plucking the shirt off of Dean, and the feeling of his cold knuckles against Dean’s dirty skin almost, almost elicited a gasp from Dean, but he suppressed it.

Castiel eyed him odd, though, and discarded the shirt on the floor. Dean gazed down at his own naked chest - covered in terrible wounds, scratches, blood, holes.

“And you said you plan to fix this with just human, er, ‘techniques’?”

“Only in the beginning.”

Castiel pressed the rag against Dean’s chest, an unwounded part. It was warm against his skin, a little bit of water seeping out of it with each press. Castiel gently scrubbed the dirt off of his chest, and then moved onto his stomach, and suddenly, Dean was feeling giggly.

At the first time it tickled, his leg gave a twitch. Then kicked. Castiel paused, eyeing him. Dean nodded for him to continue, and Castiel shrugged and obeyed. He pressed the rag to Dean’s stomach and still, at the first hint of motion, Dean fell into a booming laughter.

He laughed hard - so hard it hurt, a lot. Although there was a bright smile on his face, Castiel just stared at him, blinking, the rag hovering over his stomach.

“You’re extremely ticklish, Dean,” Castiel noted aloud.

“No, I’m n--AHAHAHAHAH!!!” Dean erupted into another string of laughter as Castiel ever so gently pressed the rag against his stomach. Dean gasped for air, laughing harder than he ever have, and gazed at Cas - he was smiling. 

“AH, CAS, STOP!” Dean couldn’t breathe at this point.

“Dean, I’m not even touching you!” Castiel said, which for some reason made Dean laugh harder, if possible.

“OH MY GOD CAS I CAN’T BREATHE!” Dean laughed until he was coughing, and only then did he begin to calm down. Still smiling like a dork, he buried his hands in his face. “Proceed.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and harshly scrubbed at Dean’s stomach, ignoring his wild thrashing and hysterical laughing until his stomach was as clean as if he’d just showered.

Castiel sighed when he was done, trying to tame a giggling Dean.

They sat like that for a while, Dean smiling, hands crossed over his stomach. Until Castiel spoke.

“I’m done with your stomach, Dean. This part...it may hurt.”

Dean looked at him, panic flashing on those green eyes. He gave a reluctant nod.

Castiel slid his hand on to Dean’s stomach, which made Dean shudder, and pressed the rag to his wounded side. Dean cried out in pain, arching his back and twisting his body. Instantly, adrenaline pumped through him like a drug, and he wanted to fight back. He clenched his fists as he wriggled into the pain, knowing, it’s just Cas, it’s just Cas. That calmed him down only slightly.

He cried out once more and Cas tried to soothe him by rubbing his chest gently.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.”

Dean shuttered, the pain unbearable. He watched in terror as Castiel cleaned the wound gingerly, and his eyes widened as he washed the rag from his blood then placed it against Dean’s further wounded shoulder.

Unfortunately, the rest of the process went slowly, leaving a pained Dean shuddering in bed, wet from the water, cold. At least he was clean. Castiel had pulled the covers over him, trying to warm him, but didn’t know what to do.

Dean was in the most unbearable pain, and the coldness and wetness wasn’t helping.

“Cas...?” He said quietly.

“Yes, Dean?”

“...Can you do me a favor?”

“Yes. Anything, Dean.”

“Lay with me, Cas.”

Castiel let out a shuttered breath of disbelief, but then nodded. Surely Dean was only cold. Surely it was platonic.

He crawled on to the bed beside him.

“Get under the covers. It...it’s cold.”

Castiel obediently crawled under the covers with Dean, feeling him press against himself. Castiel was unable to stop himself from wanting Dean to be warm, so he snaked his arms around Dean’s waist and pulled him closer.

Dean buried his face in Castiel’s neck, nuzzling into his warmth. His eyes fluttered closed and he dozed off.

Castiel managed to find sleep as well. Although ‘Angels did not require slumber’, it was comforting when with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m a bad writer tbh. So far things are happening too quickly in my opinion because of my poor skills and incapability to develop a decent plotline. Oh well, I guess that’s the way it is. But there will be fluff soon... ^_^ I hope you liked it, thanks babs~!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so honestly, completely sorry if you read the original chapter 5. It was awful and I didn’t like how it affected my plans for the story, so here--a rewrite. ~<3

Dean woke up to a warmth. He didn’t open his eyes, but became aware of his surroundings; heaven, as he recalled, no longer with fresh, piercing pain flooding his whole body in Hell. He nuzzled deeper into the warmth enclosing him, the arms wrapped around him. In a moment, he wondered what he could be so closely snuggled to - his arm wrapped around whatever/whoever’s shoulder–neck area, his leg swung around the unidentified body. 

Castiel.

His eyes snapped open to reveal a trench coat, a backwards tie. His eyes trailed upward to a man with a strong jawline covered with a day-old stubble, eyes closed and usually furrowed eyebrows relaxed. Cheeks painted with stubble and a light rosy hue. 

_Castiel._

Dean smiled softly, feeling somewhat pleased Castiel had stayed. For some reason, a voice--a voice he hated so much, for it always spoke negatively, the things he hated to consider--in the back of his head, faint and small, told him Castiel would leave him and not come back. Maybe it was just his past experiences telling him this. 

Castiel’s beautiful blue eyes slowly opened, then closed tightly then opened again. Their faces were so close, Dean could feel the Angel’s hot breath on his lips. Dean ‘mm’ed quietly, and Castiel said, searching his green eyes, “Good morning, Dean.” 

Dean smiled and nodded. “Mornin’, Cas.” He slowly sat up, and so did Castiel--Dean almost pulled away because their thighs touched underneath the covers, but he sighed when Castiel leaned into the touch. 

“Are you in pain?” Castiel asked, breaking the comforting silence. 

“Nah,” Dean responded with a half-hearted shrug. He was being honest--he had no particular reason to lie. He wasn’t in pain, not really--of course, a constant sting of the cleaned wound in his side and shoulder was still there, but it was faint and Dean was used to more painful things. “Not really. So, captain, what are we doing today?” 

Castiel didn’t seem to understand the point in Dean calling him captain, because he squinted and tilted his head at him as if to study him, like he’d done earlier. Then, as if to realize Dean had asked him a question, his expression faltered and he gave a meek shrug. 

“We could start slow,” Castiel suggested, and Dean could tell he was carefully selecting his words, by the slow way he spoke and the soothing tone of his deep, scratchy voice. “Taking your reaction yesterday in consideration, I think it would be best to do so.” 

Dean shook his head. “Whatever we have to do to get me out of here quickly, and back to Sam,” he said. Castiel’s expression faltered into hurt, but Dean didn’t notice. 

“Yes, Dean.” 

The Angel quickly untangled himself from the sheets and dusted off nonexistent dust off his trench coat, then nodded politely to Dean. “Would you like me to get you breakfast?” He asked. 

To Castiel’s bemusement, Dean shook his head. “Nah, Cas, ’m not really all that hungry. You wanna, uh, go ahead and start?” 

Dean’s eagerness to leave cut Castiel as badly as an angel blade, but he pushed it aside. Dean wasn’t attached to him. If Dean was healed by now, Castiel was sure it’d be fine if Dean never saw him again. Castiel pulled his lip between his teeth an nodded. He didn’t matter to Dean. 

And he guessed he’d have to put up with that. 

\--------------------

They started slow anyway. 

Castiel carefully unpeeled the thick blankets off of Dean’s bare chest, rolling it down to the middle of his thighs, a little above his knee. He gently touched four careful fingers on Dean’s chest, and when there was no reaction, felt around for the spots more painful to him. 

“Don’t hold back to show you are in pain,” Castiel said as he touched Dean’s bare skin, biting his lip hard to focus on his job. “I need to know where it hurts most so I can heal it.” 

Dean was in the middle of a nod when he suddenly cried out, fisting the covers and throwing his head back. “Dammit, Cas!” He said. 

To Dean’s terror, Castiel touched that tender area one more time, eliciting another yell from Dean. “Calm down, Dean, it’s okay.” Castiel’s voice was soothing and be stopped touching Dean’s skin. He said, “First, I should heal your wounds with my Grace. Then I can move on to more...angelic technology.” 

Dean didn’t know what healing with his Grace meant, but when Castiel spread his fingers and a pure white light began illuminating from his hand, and then became bright and magnificent, Dean got an idea. A high-pitched frequency rang in his ears, one that actually made him cringe, but when Castiel pressed the light in his hand against the most sensitive of Dean’s wounds, the pain subsided. 

At ease, Dean sighed as he felt a warm, comforting feeling enter his body. He let out a groan and the light was gone, the ringing was gone. Castiel watched him for a moment. 

“How are you feeling, Dean?” 

“Good, Cas, I’m feelin’ good.” 

\--------------------

The next few hours were relatively, genuinely awful. 

It was full of Castiel trying to coax Dean into allowing him to heal _“Just one more bruise, Dean”_ and _“Just one more wound, Dean”._

Dean was exhausted, while Castiel didn’t seem tired at all. Dean was in pain, too, and he was just so tired and wanted this all to be _over with._

“Cas...can we break?” Dean asked an awkward silence of Castiel waiting at the bedside for Dean to stir. 

Castiel seemed hesitant, but he replied with, “Of course, Dean. I believe I should get you food now.” 

“God, Cas, some pie would be friggin’ fantastic. You mind getting me some apple pie?” Dean asked. 

Castiel nodded, and then disappeared from existence. 

Dean sighed when he was gone. He was still in pain from the awful healing sessions, but at least he’d leave to see Sam soon. And at least he was gonna get some apple pie. 

\--------------------

It took Dean a few seconds to realize Castiel was staring at him as he ate the pie. 

Dean froze, the fork hovering inches away from his open mouth, ready to fall off the prongs and on to the plate. 

Castiel was staring at him. Very, very intensely. 

And it wasn’t the absent-minded staring-off-into-space kind of staring. 

Of course not, this was Castiel. 

It was very _serious_ staring. Castiel’s black eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pressed hard together, head tilted slightly to the side like some confused puppy. 

And Dean just stared back at him for a while, mouth open, pie falling off the fork. 

Just waiting for Cas to break the silence, say something. 

Nope, not Cas. 

So Dean chose to do it because this moment was unbearable. 

“Uh, Cas?” Dean mumbled. Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed more. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

“Why’re you starin’ at me like that?” 

Castiel frowned, his expression faltering. “I apologize, Dean,” he said, straightening his posture and then looking down. “I didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable.” 

Dean blinked a few times and then said, “Okay.” He caught the pie before it fell off the fork in his mouth, chewing and then swallowing hard. Castiel could not deny his eyes flickered to Dean again, but then he stood up and sighed. 

“Is there anything else you need, Dean?” 

“Uh, nope.” 

“Well, then when you finish your pie I’ll heal more wounds.” 

“Can I just go to sleep when I’m done?” 

Castiel’s response was tentative, as if it had taken some contemplation to decide, but eventually he nodded and mumbled, “Yes, Dean.” 

Dean nodded gratefully, and quickly shoveled the rest of the pie to the end of the plate and then into his mouth. 

He set the plate on the nightstand beside the bed, which miraculously disappeared the second his hand released it, and then settled into the bed, closing his eyes. 

Castiel sighed once Dean was asleep, noticing that he snored a little bit. It was a comforting, calming sound--a quiet buzz that filled the almost eerie silence of the large room. 

A few hours later, Dean woke up with a jolt, a scream rumbling loud in his throat. He looked around in a cold sweat, confused as to where he was. The room was completely dark, and he could almost feel blood oozing from all of his wounds. 

“Dean,” Dean heard Castiel said. “C-Cas...” He mumbled fearfully. 

He could feel Castiel climbing on to the bed beside him, his cold fingers gently touching Dean’s forearm. “Are you okay?” Castiel asked quietly. 

“Yes,” Dean murmured, but choked out a sob. He could remember the feeling of a blade ripping unforgivingly through his flesh and muscles, hearing his own bones crash, Alistair’s yellow eyes looming gleefully over him. “I thought...I was in Hell,” he admitted, adjusting himself to sit up. He felt weak, helpless, the literal pain of memory making his whole body feel like it was on fire. Despite the darkness, Castiel could see tears welling up in Dean Winchester’s eyes. 

“No,” Castiel assured, tone soft like he was talking to a wounded animal. “Quite the contrary. It’s okay, you’re still in heaven.” Dean let out another choked sob, but this time thick, hot tears spilling onto his cheeks and his shoulders hitched. 

Castiel pulled him in in a tight, caring embrace. Dean buried his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck, feeling his own tears drizzle onto his hot skin. “I--I’m sorry,” Dean sobbed, but Castiel shushed him. “Hush, Dean,” Castiel whispered as Dean fisted the bottom of Castiel’s trench coat. 

“You can cry, now, Dean. It’s okay to cry.” Dean sobbed harder at Castiel’s assuring words, tightening his grip on the Angel’s trench coat. 

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay to cry.” 

Dean fell asleep against Castiel’s chest that night. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel continues to heal Dean, and Dean realizes a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Rewrote a few things ^_^

Dean slowly opened his eyes, vision glassy from being closed but e could still see the rumpled trench coat underneath him. His head was laid on Castiel’s chest, warm and solid. The Angel’s eyes were closed, so Dean assumed he must be asleep, or something. Dean sighed, and sat up slowly, wiping the sleep from his sore eyes. 

Memories from last night flooded into his brain almost painfully, as a headache swarmed into his skull. 

How he’d broke down, cried, and how Castiel had held him close and told him it was okay. 

Castiel was a good friend, Dean knew that much for certain. 

Dean, for a moment, paused and wondered if Castiel would stay with him once he was healed. If he would come to Earth with him, and they’d be friends, and Sam could meet him. Dean doubted he had any business to ask that of an Angel, so he didn’t bring it up. The Angel probably had better things to do with his time anyway. 

Dean thought about how his head felt against the Angel’s chest, how it felt with Castiel’s arms around him, how he could feel the Angel talking into his hair. How it had felt _right._ Dean felt an odd warmth settle in his chest, and he recognized the feeling from when he looked at girls in bars, the ones he usually went home with for the night. _God, no._ He groaned inwardly. Dean couldn’t be crushing on the Angel meant to heal him, he _couldn’t._

Dean sighed, untangling himself from the covers and pressing his feet against the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt the cool air against his bare chest and arms, and honestly, it felt good. His gaze fell to the wounds in his side, then he looked over to his pierced shoulder. He let out a weary sound, and forced himself to stand. Some wounds still hadn’t been healed. 

His legs were sore and his ankle hurt like hell, and it honestly hurt to continue standing up. As soon as he had shifted his weight to his legs, an almost agonizing pain shot through him like lightning, lighting his nerves on fire. He groaned, and stretched out his arms behind him, arching his back. He heard a satisfying _crack!_ and then another. 

“Dean,” a gravely voice said. Dean’s eyed snapped open and he looked over at the bed, where a pair of bright blue eyes were staring back up at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said softly, unable to deny he enjoyed the feeling of the Angel’s electric blue gaze settled directly on him, and only on him. 

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked. Dean bit the inside of his lip subtly, then said, “Sore. But... I’m okay.” Dean sat back down on the bed, a safe, friendly distance from Castiel. Maybe it was in his imagination, maybe not, but Dean could’ve sworn Castiel’s eyes flickered down to his bare chest. _Of course they did,_ Dean thought, _He was looking at my wounds._ Obviously. _Get it together._

Castiel sat up too, blinking. It was so _inhuman,_ Dean realized, the way he didn’t rub his eyes or yawn, or stretch his probably now loose muscles. He wasn’t human, Dean reminded himself obviously. 

“Would you like to begin?” Castiel asked. Dean looked at him curiously. “The…healing,” Castiel clarified. Dean hummed his understanding, and then said, “Yeah, let’s start.” He pulled his legs onto the bed and sat up, back propped against the pillows like before. Castiel nodded and carefully got off the bed, walking over to the side Dean was at. 

Carefully, Castiel’s fingers touched Dean’s stomach. Dean tensed under his cold touch, and shifted his body to a more comfortable position. Castiel gently ran his fingers up Dean’s stomach, and then touched his shoulder. Like yesterday, a ball of Grace formed in Castiel’s hand, bright and blinding, and as Castiel pressed his hand to Dean’s shoulder, Dean felt a sweet feeling of warmth wash over him as the Grace healed his shoulder. 

Castiel then did the same to his side, and Dean felt the warm feeling fill his entire body again. He sighed contentedly when Castiel was done, and then looked down at his bare chest. “Is... That all of my wounds?” 

“Not even slightly,” Castiel answered. “Those were only a few of the ones on the surface.” Dean’s eyebrows narrowed, but he nodded slowly. Castiel then pulled the blanket down to Dean’s feet, and Dean looked at him curiously. 

“I need to remove your pants,” Castiel said. “What? Hell, no,” Dean mumbled. Crush or not, he had his dignity to live up to. 

Castiel sighed. “Dean, I _have_ to. Your legs are very scarred, and I need to heal them. _Please_ understand. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but this is necessary.” 

Dean sighed, then mumbled, “Alright, Cas.” Castiel nodded gratefully, and said, “Thank you, Dean.” 

Castiel began undoing his belt, and Dean had to look away. He knew he was blushing like a girl, he could _feel_ it. His whole face felt hot as Castiel set the belt on the nightstand then began slipping off Dean’s pants, and Dean had to lift slightly to help him out. Castiel bit his lip, and Dean blushed more. 

Castiel seemed to study his legs, and then muttered, “It’s…more wounded than I expected.” He looked up at Dean, meeting his eyes. “Of course, I can still heal it, it might just...take longer than expected, if it hurts you.” 

Dean only nodded, and then Castiel mimicked the action, nodding as well. “I’ll…begin now.” Castiel started at his ankles, and Dean winced as he could feel Castiel’s hand touch the injured bone. As soon as he touched it, though, it was healed, the bone set back into it’s right place. Dean hadn’t really noticed it was broken. 

Then Castiel moved up to his calves, starting on his left leg. He healed a long scratch that ran all the way down his leg, then on the other leg, healed the two small cuts. Castiel’s hands gently pushed his thighs apart, and Dean found his heart pace increased dramatically as Castiel tentatively touched the excruciatingly deep wound on his inner, upper thigh. 

Dean bit his lip hard as Castiel healed that wound, the sweet feeling overcoming him as the wound disappeared, and Dean fought hard to resist the urge to moan. He closed his eyes tight. 

Castiel’s voice broke the silence. “Does this hurt you, Dean?” He asked. Dean shook his head. No, it didn’t hurt. It only felt _amazing,_ and it was sort of completely turning him on. Castiel nodded and said, “You’re doing well today, Dean.” 

Castiel touched his other inner thigh, and pushed his legs apart more. The way his cold fingers touched his thigh so gingerly, the was his Grace felt like warm gold as it washed over him, it was almost too much for Dean. He could feel his dick giving some interested twitches. He could _feel_ himself getting hard, and God, that’s embarrassing. Castiel healed the other wound, and dammit, pushed his legs apart _more,_ and Dean completely accidentally breathed, “Cas…” 

Castiel looked up at him, eyes alert. Dean bit his lip, wishing he hadn’t said anything. “C-can we take a break?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded, and then straightened up. Dean licked his lips awkwardly, and said, “Hey, do you have a shower?” 

“I figured you’d ask,” Castiel said. “Yes, I do.” He gestured to a door, and Dean nodded, getting up. He didn’t care to put on his pants—he was just about to take a _shower._ He quickly ran into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him, even though he didn’t figure Castiel would try to come in. 

He quickly stripped off his boxers and then turned on the shower, stepping in so quickly it surprised him when the scorching liquid hit his skin. He fumbled when adjusting it to a more suitable temperature, but it got there. 

He was still painfully hard, and once the shower wasn’t burning him, he grabbed his throbbing member in his hand and gave it a rough pull. He groaned as an image entered his head—Castiel on his knees in front of Dean, one hand gripping his dick as he adjusted it in front of his mouth, before his lips wrapped perfectly around the shaft and slid down his length, tongue following all the way. Dean didn’t know why he was thinking like this—he’d never really been _attracted_ to men, in any way, at all. But the thought of Cas, right now—it was turning him on for a need to release. 

He gripped his dick harder and pulled again, calloused hand sliding over the overly sensitive flesh as he jerked off. Dean moaned, hoping Castiel didn’t hear him. He felt he was already close—the feeling of Castiel touching his thighs must’ve set him off enough. He continued to jerk off, thinking about Castiel all the while. As soon as he imagined Castiel crying out his name as Dean jerked him off, he groaned as he spilled a white, hot load onto his hands, and washed it off in the water. Well, he felt better now. 

He stayed in the shower for a long time after—despite how tired and _sore_ he felt, and he decided it was time to get out once he washed his hair twice. He felt he might not be able to face Castiel without jumping him, in the totally sexy kind of way. But, he got out. 

He dried himself off with a towel, then slipped on his boxers. He didn’t have anything else to wear, embarrassingly, so he came out of the bathroom like that. 

When he stepped out, his eyes instantly locked with Castiel’s, and Dean blushed. Dean _knew_ he saw Castiel’s eyes rake over his slightly damp chest, and Dean blushed more. Castiel finally looked away, and Dean awkwardly slipped his jeans on. 

“So,” Dean began after a long, awkward silence. “Anything else you wanna heal?” Castiel looked over at him and then stood up, walking over. Dean felt his heart beat pace pick up as Castiel stopped inches away from him and placed a hand over his eyes. 

“These are more…minor things,” Castiel explained as Dean felt the warm feeling wash over him again like warm honey. “But…I’d like to fix them anyway.” 

Upon saying that Castiel lifted his hand off, Dean found his vision was particularly crisp. He hadn’t realized it, but this whole time everything had been a bit blurry. 

Then, Castiel’s thumb brushed over his eyelashes and traced his eyebrows, doing both sides at different times. The Angel traced over every freckle—every single 3,461—on his face, and traced over his cheekbones and jaw. Then, his thumb, with a lack of confidence, touched his bottom lip. Dean’s breath hitches, but he allowed Castiel to trace his lips with his thumb, until they were no longer chapped. When he was done, he looked up and met Dean’s eyes, thumb still gently touching the corner of his mouth. Then Castiel blushed, he _blushed,_ looking away. 

“That...that should be all…for, um…the beginning, Dean,” Castiel said. “Thanks, Cas,” Dean mumbled, and sighed tiredly. “Why don’t we, uh, get some rest?” 

“Angels don’t–” Castiel began, but then shook his head and nodded. They both climbed into the bed—this seemed to be becoming a pattern—Dean under the covers, Castiel not. Dean snoring quietly, Castiel’s eyes open and alert for no reason as he decided on a topic of thought to keep him from being bored. 

The topic, undoubtedly, was Dean. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve started writing another Destiel AU… I plan on making it multi-chapter just like this one, a long one... :3 I know I probably shouldn’t be starting another one while I haven’t even finished this one, but I can’t help myself hehe ^u^ anyways, I hope you guys liked this chapter ;u; thanks for the kudos! I hope to start posting more frequently ;u;


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is ready to return to Earth, but they’re both reluctant to let go of another.

The rest of the healing went by slowly and Castiel wishes he could forget it. 

It was painful, for Dean, which made it painful for Castiel. 

Castiel remembers vaguely of searching through separate dimensions to find each strand of Dean’s torn Soul, clipping a wing in the process. 

First, Castiel had discovered the Lust part of Dean’s Soul. 

There wasn’t much of it, in all honesty. 

That’s because most of it was still in Dean. Castiel knew that because of Dean’s growing affection for Castiel, but it’s not like your Lust was something they toyed with much in Hell—Lust could be torturous on its own, Castiel figured. 

When Castiel had discovered it, it was in a city in New York. It was hiding out behind a bar, and surprised Castiel that it was even on Earth. It was a hassle to collect, considering Castiel wasn’t even all that familiar with Earth. He had only known a few things, all because of Dean. 

But Castiel captured it. It had taken a whole lot of metaphorical blood, sweat, and tears, but he’d gotten the job done. A few scrapes on the elbows wasn’t too much for Castiel to withstand. 

He refused to put in inside of Dean right away. He’d deposited it locked away in a little cage in a hidden area of the room, and Castiel told himself that’s where he’d keep the rest of the Soul parts. 

Next, Castiel found the part of Dean that didn’t want to die. The Determined part. The part of his Soul that was always hidden away, covered in other layers of his soul, tucked snugly behind shots of alcohol and nights with women. The part that only came out when Dean was literally on the brink of losing his life, the part that only came out when more than just _absolutely necessary._

Castiel carefully tucked that one in the cage with the Lust part, too. 

Castiel was searching through a wistful forest blanketed in thick sheets of white, frothy fog when he found the Humor of Dean. The Humor was almost sadly drifted through the fog, and when it had spotted Castiel it almost instantly went to him. It practically glowed in his presence, a small string of bright golden light, and Castiel found himself smiling and laughing just being around it. 

Humor was no real fun on your own, Castiel guessed. He also very carefully (maybe _lovingly_ was a better word for it) allowed that Soul part to take residence in the cage with the other two Soul parts. 

Castiel had no idea exactly how many Soul parts Dean possessed, but with his great charisma and charming smile and uplifting attitude—while adding his more depressing moods of Dean—Castiel none but assumed Dean had quite a few. But he wouldn’t know for sure until he’d collected them all. 

And that’s what Castiel did. He spend months collecting Dean’s soul parts—after Lust, Determination, and Humor, came Angst, Love, Loyalty, Charisma, and then Strength. It was all that made up Dean—and honestly, it was utterly beautiful. 

After a while, Castiel had a nicely stocked cage of Soul parts. Dean was completely healed, and currently asleep on the bed. Castiel glanced over to him, bottom lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He felt a sadness, emptiness sink inside him. He’d have to make Dean _forget him._ Castiel felt like him and Dean were…friends. Castiel’d never really _had_ a friend before. Of course, there were his Brothers and Sisters, but they were more…well, brothers, and sisters. 

It hurt Castiel a little, to restart with Dean. But he had to, he knew he did. For a moment, he was just going to allow Dean’s Soul parts into him, and then send him back into his body. He was just reaching his hand to Dean’s forehead, when his bright green eyes snapped open. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, a soft smile playing at his lips as he sat up, making eye-contact with the Angel. “I guess I fell asleep,” Dean murmured with a lazy grin. “Sorry.” 

Castiel only nodded and bit his lip. “Dean…” he whispered. Dean’s eyes locked hard into his, green pools filled with concern. “Cas?” His voice was soaked in sympathy, and it made Cas wince a bit. “What’s wrong?” 

Castiel managed a small, forced smile. “Nothing, Dean.” But then his face fell. He’d have to tell Dean the truth. Besides, Dean would forget anyway. “It’s just…” Castiel began, feeling Dean’s intense gaze on him. Castiel hesitated before continuing. 

“It’s just, you are completely healed, and…I have all of your Soul parts. I think it is time for you to return to Sam,” Castiel explained, rigidly still. Dean’s eyes went wide with shock. “Um, Cas…” he mumbled. 

“I have already kept you here longer than I should have.” Castiel spoke quickly. “And I’m sorry. You can return to Earth, to your brother.” 

Dean frowned. “You’re sorry?” He asked. Castiel tentatively nodded, as if the question didn’t make sense. “Yes, Dean. I know I should not have kept you here so long, but I did anyway. I am…sorry.” 

Dean blinked. 

Castiel bit his lip. 

And then Dean started shaking his head, a warm laugh rumbling in his throat. Dean stood up, walking over to a very confused Castiel. “Okay, then. If it’s time,” Dean said. 

Castiel bit his lip. He felt a little—no, a lot—hurt at those words. But of course, Dean wanted to go to his brother. Obviously. 

Dean lifted his eyebrows to Castiel, who nodded. “Your…Soul parts. Right.” Castiel made his way to the cage, but before he could allow the Soul parts around, Dean’s voice stopped him. 

“Cas,” Dean said thickly, voice raspy and warm. Castiel spun around and faced the man, whom was looking at him from under his eyelashes. “You think I…want to leave?” Dean asked. Castiel clenched his fists and nodded. “Of course. To…go to your brother. I understand your relationship is very important.” 

Suddenly, warm lips were pressed confidently against his, almost eagerly. Castiel’s breath hitched as Dean’s hands slid up to his forearms as their lips mashed together in a wet, slippery bliss. _“Dean,”_ Castiel breathed against his lips. Dean pulled away, and the kiss seemed to end quicker than it came, Castiel feeling a sinking emptiness in his stomach at the loss. 

Dean’s forehead touched Castiel’s, and they stared into another’s eyes. Dean’s eyes were filled with age, hurt, love, loss, devotion. It made Castiel’s breathing get a bit heavy, as he stared into the intensity of Dean Winchester’s emerald eyes. For once, he felt, this _human_ made him feel vulnerable. 

“Perhaps…I could stay a little bit longer?” Dean asked softly, and Castiel could only nod eagerly. “Yes, Dean,” he breathed against his lips. 

“Yes, perhaps you can.” 

Dean smiled softly, and then kissed Castiel’s lips again. Castiel instantly began to kiss back, fingers lacing between Dean’s. 

As an Angel, kissing was something he’d never taken an interest to. Angels didn’t kiss. They didn’t touch. But Dean…Dean had changed Castiel more than he expected him to. Kissing was something Castiel’d never done before, but now he didn’t know how to stop. 

Dean pulled away first, lips a dark shade of pink from the pressure of Castiel’s. “God,” he whispered as he stared at Castiel’s blue eyes, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. 

“How long?” Was all Castiel could say. He didn’t know why he said it, and it came out sounding hardly even like him. 

“Since…the third day,” Dean said. Castiel blinked, and then kissed his lips again, quicker and less reluctant than the rest. “I wasted too much time,” Castiel mumbled and nuzzled Dean’s warm neck, feeling his own hot breath against his face, all surrounded by the scent of Dean. 

Dean smiled again, Castiel could feel it, and snaked his arms around Castiel’s back. Castiel grinned and pressed impossibly closer, inhaling, _tasting_ the scent of Dean with an open mouth. 

Dean pressed a small kiss to Castiel’s hair, and then another, and then another. 

“This is new to me,” Dean admitted, and Castiel looked up at him with blue eyes thick with emotion Dean couldn’t quite identify. “The whole…well, I’ve never been with a guy before.” 

Castiel nodded slightly, then, looking at Dean’s collar bone, asked, “Is this a good thing?” 

Dean nodded. “God, Cas, this is an _awesome_ thing. I have wanted this…wanted _you,_ for so long. You don’t even know…” 

He trailed off, and Castiel smiled softly. “Me too, Dean.” Dean grinned, shaking his head slightly. Castiel leaned upward and kissed Dean full on the mouth. Dean mumbled something that Castiel didn’t quite catch against his mouth, and Castiel laced his fingers against the cotton of Dean’s shirt. 

“I love you,” Castiel blurted when Dean pulled away. Dean blinked at him then pressed a slow kiss to Castiel’s Adam’s Apple, kissing down to his collar bone. He slowly untied Castiel’s tie, and set that on the desk, not parting his lips and tongue from Castiel’s collar bone in the process. Then, hesitantly slid off Castiel’s trench coat, feeling a wave of confidence wash over him when Castiel helped him shrug it off. 

Dean lifted his face to Castiel’s and kissed his lips, hands crawling up to Castiel’s shoulders and pulling off his black tailcoat. He started working on the button’s of Castiel’s dress shirt, and when he slid it off Castiel’s shoulders, pulled away to look at Castiel’s bare chest. 

Dean grinned and kissed the muscles of Castiel’s chest, sinking to his knees to kiss the Angel’s navel. He looked up at Castiel, then bit his lip. Dean opened his mouth and the words that came out surprised him as much as it did Castiel. He breathed out, “I love you, too.” 

~~~~~~ 

Dean shifted slightly to be more on top of Castiel, pressing a gentle kiss to the apple of his cheek. Bare skin against skin, Castiel slipped a thigh between his legs, eliciting a quiet moan from Dean at the friction. “Christ, Cas,” Dean mumbled, ignoring the eyebrow lift from Castiel. 

Dean sighed softly, too sore to be doing this. He laid on top of Castiel, closing his eyes. He was tired from the aftermath of the fantastic sex he’d just had. God, Dean had wasted all this time with women—it was so much better with a man. The soreness between Dean’s legs was amazing, and he hummed against Castiel’s neck slightly. “God, Cas…I…” Dean mumbled, then stopped himself. 

He was so torn. He never wanted this to end, never wanted to stop the feeling of Castiel’s naked body against his own. But he also _needed_ to get back to Sam. What was he to do? 

“Are you going to stay with me?” Dean asked. Castiel seemed to freeze, then opened his eyes to look at him. “What?” Castiel asked. 

“I mean…when I get to Earth? Are you going to…be there with me?” Dean clarified. Castiel bit his lip, as if deciding on an answer. “Yes, Dean,” he said thickly, as if the words were barely able to fall off his tongue. “I’ll be there.” 

“Are you…ready to return to Earth yet?” Castiel asked softly. Dean looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “I—” Dean mumbled, but Castiel interrupted by shaking his head. “Go to sleep, Dean.” 

Dean signed, burying his face in the curve of Castiel’s neck. Slowly, his breathing steadied and he found himself in a deep sleep, not dreaming but unconscious. 

Castiel couldn’t do this. 

He couldn’t keep Dean, not when Sam needed him. Castiel couldn’t keep Dean from his brother due to his own selfishness. 

Castiel slowly got up from underneath him, making his way to the room with the cage of Soul parts. He carefully let them out, counting each one to make sure they were all there. He led them to Dean, and they all seemed to glow brightly at his presence. 

The Soul parts circled around Dean, each pressing into his skin and melting into him, until there were mixed in deeply with his Soul. Castiel sighed as he watched, making his way over to Dean. 

He didn’t want to do this. 

“I’ll…be there, Dean. I promise.” He pressed his hand to Dean’s forehead, and Dean’s green eyes snapped open. “Cas—” was the last thing Dean could spit out before he burst into a bright, white light, glowing all the while until he disappeared from existence, Soul floating up from where his body once was. 

“Go to your body, Dean. I’ll see you.” 

Dean’s Soul floated away, Castiel watching with a lump in his throat and shiny tears in his head. He shook his head once Dean was gone, smiling softly. 

“I’ll be there.” 


End file.
